


For All the Wrong Reasons

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Vader's Self-Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 21:19:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11321964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Something out of the usual for me. Came from the random thought, "Anakin takes his sexual prowess quite seriously, so what does being Vader do to his self esteem?"I don't actually ship Vadaphra, but this happened anyway.





	For All the Wrong Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> Nobody dies, and there's consensual sex. It's alright to wonder if my account's been hacked.

 

“You could always help me, Boss.”  
Vader had _not_ been expecting to find Aphra curled up in the engine room of the Archangel slowly fripping herself with a toy. Her signature had been too relaxed, almost meditative, _nothing_ like Padmé's when he used to—

But as much of a shock as  _that_ was, her unashamed suggestion was even  _more_ unreasonable.

She'd  _seen_ his bacta tank. She'd  _seen_ his head, his body. How could she possibly  _stand_ the thought of something like  _this_ touching her? With  _droid_ hands, no less?

She hadn't stopped her activity with his entry, while he stood there frozen.

He hadn't felt  _this_ lost and inept since Padmé had taken him to her bed that first time. That had been embarrassing.

This might be worse.

He'd... the heat of the fire, and the burns had...

Originally he'd thought his manhood had been spared. Then he'd realized damage had been done. The surgeon droids hollowed out his balls to keep them from rotting where they hung dead, and replaced them with weights.

Vader couldn't help but wonder  _why._ Even if he bothered with testosterone treatments to try to regain his sex drive, any contact on his cock  _hurt._

He didn't even  _think_ about himself as a sexual being anymore, one that could give or receive pleasure, one that could desire or be desired.

He was hate, he was death, he was droid.

Sexy had never really fit into the picture.

Aphra ran one hand suggestively up her stomach to run over a breast and then up her throat. “Boss,” she whispered.

Vader could sense her desire. She  _wanted_ him to touch her.

His vastly damaged ego looked up and decided to pay attention. It drew him towards her like an unstoppable magnet.

He'd once taken great pride in his desirability.

The loss of it had been a great blow, far greater than he would  _ever_ admit to the ugly, repulsive worm he now called  _Master._

Aphra wasn't looking at him like a curiosity. She just wanted sex.

Sex with  _him._

But kneeling hurt, and he was  _not_ going to put up with it. “Come with me,” he commanded, turning to lead her back to her cabin.

“I'd be glad to come  _for_ you,” Aphra murmured, the snapping of boots against grating signaling her obedience. She shed her clothes as she walked.

And then she was sprawled on her back, utterly naked and waiting on her high bunk. For a long moment Vader simply studied her eyes and Force signature, containing both lust and carefully reigned-in impatience.

She wanted this too much to wreck it with demands.

That was...  _very_ gratifying.

He pulled the gloves from his hands, having little interest in covering them with her scent. She watched with hooded, dark-blown eyes.

What if he failed? What if he couldn't satisfy her without the use of either cock or tongue? Could he  _bear_ such a thing—?

Then again, if this went  _that_ badly, he could kill her. Right here, right now, no one need ever know he'd failed.

Alright. That was safety net enough.

She eagerly accepted his metal hands, as much as Padmé ever had, but Aphra was  _nothing_ like Padmé. Padmé always had a quiet respect for herself that shone through her every action, that hallowed her in Anakin's eyes.

Aphra didn't see anything sacred in what they were doing. She had no illusions that it made them equals, friends, or anything else—

And she had  _no_ compunction with letting him know just  _exactly_ how much she liked what he was doing to her. She licked his fingers or sucked on them, she writhed, she moaned, she cried out, she begged.

He teased her folds, then held out his hand to be cleaned by her tongue.

Time slipped by as Vader, for the first time in  _years,_ began to feel smug. He felt her body clenching around his fingers in desperate orgasm, caressing their cold, unforgiving texture.

Not cold anymore, actually— so much contact with her body had warmed them.

She tried to sit up as he pulled away, but he placed a heavy hand on her chest, pinning her down.

Her gaze, cleared from her sexual fervor, followed up the arm to his mask. “Are you going to kill me now?”

He considered. He still had work she could do, work that needed to be done by _someone—_

“Because if you are, I'm gonna die pretty content. I'm going to nap while you decide.”

He could sense her exhaustion.

A self-satisfied smile curved his burned and peeling lips. She needed to sleep.

He pulled his hand away. He felt more  _whole_ and  _real_ than he had in  _years._

He might keep her around, a while longer, let her work for him.

And—

“The next time you want release, you come to me directly. You don't make me find you.”

She squinted an eye open with a happy smile. “Of course, Boss.”

He turned on his heel, cape swirling behind him.

He returned first to the engine room to retrieve the toy and hide it in his own chamber, so she wouldn't  _have_ it to turn to. The thought of her needing him, aching for him felt  _powerful._

And with her spectacular lack of mind shielding— one of the things he liked best about her— should he want to... he could lower his own shields and let her pleasure become his.

He could  _feel_ something again.

There would be no mess, no convulsions, no outward sign of enjoyment...

But sex had always been about a chemical dump into mind and bloodstream anyway.

If his mind could get there without the classic chemicals, who the hell was there to judge?

It might allow him to ignore, for a few heartbeats, the grating pain that followed him around this nightmare existence.

Yes.

Aphra might prove herself useful indeed.

 

 


End file.
